


What John Wants

by meganlynn4244



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, BAMF John, Boys In Love, Canon Divergence - The Great Game, Coming Untouched, Fluff and Smut, Genius John, Humor, Jim from IT, M/M, Masturbation, Praise Kink, Rimming, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-11
Updated: 2016-05-27
Packaged: 2018-02-28 23:34:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 15,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2751320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meganlynn4244/pseuds/meganlynn4244
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John Watson learned from a young age to hide his true self. Being a genius did nothing but alienate others and cause his drunken father to beat him. When John meets Sherlock, it's a revelation and he yearns to be as free with his true self as Sherlock is. When he meets Jim, the leash snaps and John decides he wants Jim for his very own.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The First Meeting

**Author's Note:**

> This story was meant to be a one-shot, but it got such great comments that I am going to extend it. This is now a work in progress and I have no idea how or when it will end, but I am working on it! Suggestions welcome!
> 
> *update* Now complete!

John Watson was frustrated, in nearly every aspect of the word. To the untrained eye, it would appear that the frustration stemmed only from recent events. After all, his flat mate had been on his worst behavior as of late. Shooting holes into their walls, leaving a severed head in the refrigerator, starting a tiff over John’s blog, discounting a hostage, and now making John retrieve his phone from his own damned pocket.

They would be wrong of course. Oh those were some of the reasons for John’s frustration, true. However the basis of John’s frustration could be traced back to his childhood and the repeated beatings his father had lavished on him. A high IQ became a crime in the Watson family once his father became an out of work drunk and while pretending to be average had become second nature, being around someone so above average made him long to break free.

Rigid with anger, John roughly rummaged around Sherlock’s pockets to find the mobile.

"Careful." Intoned Sherlock, still not looking up.

Johns jaw ticked with barely suppressed rage as his fingers found the mobile and pulled it out. Glancing at it, he slowly counted to 5. This was an old habit, one to make it seem as though it were taking him an average amount of time to read and comprehend what was in his hands. It took patience for a genius to appear average.

"Text from your brother."

"Delete it."

"Delete it?" Now John was exasperated. Really, Sherlock could drive a monk to drink.

"Missile plans are out of the country now. Nothing we can do about it."

"Well, Mycroft thinks there is. He’s texted you eight times. Must be important."

Finally Sherlock looked up from the microscope. "Then why didn’t he cancel his dental appointment?"

"His what?" John sighed tiredly.

"Mycroft never texts if he can talk. Look, Andrew West stole the missile plans, tried to sell them, got his head smashed in for his pains. End of story. The only mystery is this: why is my brother so determined to bore me when somebody else is being so delightfully interesting?"

"Try and remember there’s a woman here who might die."

"What for?" Appearing completely serious. "This hospital’s full of people dying, Doctor. Why don’t you go and cry by their bedside and see what good it does them?"

Thankfully, the computer trilled to signify the end of its search and John was saved from having to explain simple human compassion to a self-proclaimed sociopath, yet again. It wasn't that John cared for the mystery hostage all that much, but he knew it was expected of him and he could play the game. Sherlock’s life would be so much easier if only he could do the same.

Molly walked into the room as Sherlock made a happy noise.

"Any luck?" She asked, moving closer.

"Oh yes!" Sherlock proclaimed gleefully. _He can be quite adorable at times_ , John thought fondly.

That’s when it happened. The door opened again and a man walked in. He appeared to be in his thirties, tinted eyelashes, and was dressed in a tight grey V-neck, khaki trousers, and lime green pants. Hints of a necklace showed and he was very well groomed, though appeared tired. He moved somewhat awkwardly, hunched into himself but that didn't detract from his appeal.

This and more was observed and dissected by John in seconds, but was not what arrested his attention. No, it was the man’s face. He was acting, obviously, but the eyes couldn't lie and John was particularly gifted when it came to reading a person’s face, unlike Sherlock Holmes.

The man had stopped in the doorway and said, “Oh, sorry. I didn’t ...”

“Jim! Hi!” She exclaimed, saving him from his feigned awkwardness. “Come in! Come in!”

John schooled his features into a blank but welcoming mask. _Jim. What a gorgeous interesting creature._

“Jim, this is Sherlock Holmes.” Molly introduced, staring intently at Sherlock. Honestly, she was so obvious it was painful. Then she fretfully turned to look at him. “And, uh ... sorry.”

“John Watson. Hi.” He said, introducing himself for her, not in the least bit pleased that this would be Jim’s first impression of him.

Jim answered, “Hi.” absentmindedly and continued staring raptly at Sherlock’s back.

 _Of course,_ John silently seethed inside. _It’s always Sherlock Bloody Holmes._ Sure he made a point of staying under the radar, and normally could care less when people discounted him, that was after all the desired effect. But seeing this man oh so interested in his flat mate and ignoring himself, well that stung.

“So you’re Sherlock Holmes.” Jim continued, “Molly’s told me all about you. You on one of your cases?”

Jim walked closer and John reluctantly took a step back. He would have preferred to stay close to Jim, breathe him in, but he was still playing normal average John. Normal people had personal space bubbles and avoided entering others’. _What a pity._

“Jim works in I.T. upstairs. That’s how we met. Office romance.” Molly giggled, Jim joining in.

Sherlock looked at Jim briefly before muttering “Gay.”

Molly’s face fell. “Sorry, what?”

“Nothing.” Sherlock turned to look at Jim with a fake smile. “Um, hey.”

“Hey.” Jim breathlessly replied.

John was getting sick of this and made a move to gain Jim’s attention when Jim suddenly knocked a dish off the table and scrambled to pick it up, giggling uneasily all the while and muttering apologies.

If John had been a lesser man or uninterested in Jim, he would have missed the predatory smirk that appeared on his face while he was bent over and turned away from Sherlock. When John saw that smirk his cock gave a tight twitch and he knew he had to learn more, especially as it seemed his Jim had an unhealthy, possibly malicious, fascination with his best friend.

“Sorry, sorry!” Jim breathed out, finally replacing the dish. John noticed him skillfully sticking a business card under it.

“Well, I’d better be off.” He continued before turning to Molly. “I’ll see you at the Fox, ’bout six-ish?”

Molly replied in the positive and John wanted to growl in annoyance. Jim was beside her now and touching her lower back.

Jim turned toward Sherlock, “Bye. It was nice to meet you.”

Sherlock ignored him so John stepped in, “You too.” Jim barely looked at him before turning to leave.

The moment the door closed, Molly started in on Sherlock. “What do you mean, gay? We’re together.” The poor girl looked like she was about to cry.

John knew he should stay. He should try his best to shield Molly from what he’s sure will be Sherlock’s scathing deductions. He should stay to help Sherlock with this case. He knows all of his ‘shoulds’ and normally abides by them quite strictly.

But oh how he wants. He wants to race after Jim, so badly his legs itch. He’s been so good and it’s left him so frustrated. No, it’s time to let them see the real John. Time to let his inner genius out to play, but he’ll have to do it in increments. He does care about Sherlock and doesn’t want to scare him off.

Plans were formed and discounted quickly as John heard Sherlock mock Molly’s weight gain.

“I’ve got to run to the loo.” He all but blurted out, moving toward the door. “Play nice Sherlock!”

He is barely acknowledged as Sherlock begins dissecting Jims grooming habits for Molly. As the door swings shut behind him, John takes off in the direction he heard Jim move in.

The game was on, and John was not the losing sort. He would have Jim, come hell or high water.


	2. Fun in a Lift

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John corners Jim in the lift and we learn a bit more about Jim.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry this took so long! Hopefully it's semi worth the wait.
> 
> I switch up the POV quite a few times in the story however it should be fairly simple to follow along. Lemme know if my method sucks.
> 
> All mistakes are my own.

Jim Moriarty was nearly giddy in excitement as he left the lab where he had finally met Sherlock Holmes face to face.

Oh it was going to be so sweet, when the game was finally at an end and silly little Sherlock realized how close Jim had been able to sneak up on him. He hadn't felt this keen for one of his little projects in many years.

Growing up, Jim had loved being the smartest person in the room. He subtly controlled everything in his little school and even committed his first murder at the tender age of 13. By the time he graduated (three years early) he had controlled the entire village and had arranged a few more happy accidents, for a price of course.

Now, at the age of 34, he controlled all the crime in the Northern Hemisphere and a good portion of the Southern Hemisphere. He was at the very top of the food chain and should have been happy about that.

He wasn't happy though. He was lonely. Being the smartest man in the world meant he was never truly surprised and it prevented him from really connecting with anyone. He had scoffed at the "human" need for companionship when he was younger but now...that was all he wanted.

Jim had searched high and low for an equal but had only found Sherlock. Sherlock was brilliant, no doubt, but he wasn't quite mature yet. This game was designed to stretch his abilities and test their compatibility. A courtship ritual, of sorts. At the very least, a way to alleviate his all-consuming boredom.

So far, Jim had not been surprised, though he remained hopeful.

\---------

John silently trailed after Jim and finally caught him at the lift, rushing in behind him as the doors began to close.

Again Jim barely looked at John, but he knew just how to fix that. The man was obviously not who he pretended to be and quite a bit brighter than he let on. Blunt accusations and physical force should unsettle him enough to let something slip.

“Who are you?” John demanded.

Jim looked honestly baffled, turning brown doe eyes to finally _finally_ look John in the eye. His heart stopped. _Beautiful_ , he thinks.

“I-I’m sorry?” Jim stuttered out. Really, he was an amazing actor, but the eyes don’t lie and John could see the undercurrent of dark amusement.

Slamming down on the Emergency Stop button and pushing Jim roughly against the back of the elevator, John repeated himself.

“Who are you?”

“I’m Jim, we just met in the lab. I’m Molly’s boyfriend and I work-“, John cut him off with a snarling shove and stepped in until their bodies were flush. The soft rise of pink in Jim's cheeks almost made John loose his focus. Adorable.

“Do not insult my intelligence.” He began softly, staring him straight in the eye. “You’ve obviously been observing Sherlock, you knew just how to fool him, but you should have done a bit more leg work on me.”

Jim made a move to twist away, but John easily countered it, pinning him to the wall with his arms trapped at his sides. He had been in the army for goodness sake and the man was only a touch taller than him and not nearly as strong.

“Now now Jim, settle down.” John murmured soothingly, “I’d really rather not mar that delectable body of yours.”

Jim let out a small gasp and went still, the pink cheeks flushing a deep red.

"Good boy." John purred. Loosening his grip slightly. "Now then, let's try this again. Who are you, really?"

\---------

Jim was shocked. How had this soft spoken pet gotten to him? Him! No one got to Jim Moriarty. His empire was practically built around this motto. No one knew who he was and even if he decided to dabble, there was always a guard with a gun to prevent things from getting physical. He couldn't remember the last time someone touched him.

He willed his body to stop reacting. He could feel the heat in his face, seemingly magnified by the heat of the body pressing into him. John was harder than Jim had expected. More muscle than the flab his jumpers suggested.

Thinking quickly, Jim let his mask fall and grinned madly. This was always sure to make people recoil. Grown men twice his size had cowered away from his madness.

To his surprise, John simply stilled, breath catching in his throat. _Interesting, pupils enlarging, pulse quickening. He's actually attracted to me._

Slightly stunned, though valiantly hiding it, Jim gave his answer.

"My name really is Jim, pet. Why don't you ask me what you really want to know?" He said, allowing his Irish accent free reign.

\------

John nearly moaned aloud, still holding Jim against the walk yet angling to hide his erection. _He's perfect._ Sweet innocence, violent bloodthirsty madness, and brilliant genius all in a lithe delicious package. _He's mine._

"Will you go out with me?" He asked. This was what he really wanted to know, and Jim had asked after all.

Jim's nose scrunched in adorable confusion before turning murderous.

"Will I go out with you? No I won't bloody go out with you." He practically screams the last and John resists the temptation to jump at the sudden change, accustomed to shouting.

Jim’s face morphs yet again back to the mad grin and he continues, high pitched and sing-song.

"You want to know what my intentions are toward dear old Sherly. You'll never know if you don't ask!" He finished, head cocked to one side and shaking in mock disappointment.

John smiles. "That part is easy, luv. I'm more interested in wooing you at the moment. We can deal with your little game with Sherlock later."

Jim's head rears back as if struck. Surprise showing on his face before morphing into anger.

"Oh, so Johnny boy thinks he has Daddy all figured out now. Why don't you share with the class?" Jim lilts, his voice infused with fake amusement and a dangerous undertone.

John sighs, "I'll tell you if you agree to a date. With me. Tonight."

Jim's eyes narrow and he peers at John thoughtfully. His dark eyes boring into Johns blues as if trying to read his soul.

At last Jim answers, "Very well, but only if you're correct."

Gleeful, John begins. "It's obvious that you're Moriarty and behind the crimes Sherlock has been running after. The pips are mad, but playful. A game. You're bored but also very interested in Sherlock, testing him for something. You're likely lonely, as most geniuses are, and looking for a companion. I'm not sure if you simply want a friend or a lover but I can assure you that Sherlock can't be that person for you. Despite his claims of being a sociopath, he really is too innately good to turn to a life of crime himself."

John stops for a breath but before he can continue Jim is roughly pushing him away and snarling.

"How do you know that, who have you been talking to! Give me a name, I'll skin them alive!"

"Calm down luv, you don't have any leaks. I deduced it." John says proudly. Happy to finally share this part of himself with another.

"Impossible. Tell me the truth!" Jim's eyes are wide and wild, voice altering erratically. Smooth one moment and hissing the next.

"I'm telling the truth luv, it's ok." John soothingly states. Hands out toward Jim as if dealing with an angry animal.

Jim is now by the lift control panel and he restarts the descent,

"I will find out who told you about me and when their punishment is over yours will be next." Jim hisses as the lift shudders to a halt on the ground level.

"Ok Jim. What time should I pick you up for our date?" John asks as the doors open, knowing he's pushing his luck but loving the array of emotions passing over his future husbands face.

"You cheated, deals off!" And with that Jim hurries out of the building.

John chuckles and directs the lift back to the lab floor, already planning his next attempt at wooing Jim Moriarty.


	3. Lifting the Veil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John shows Sherlock his true self. Sherlock is not amused.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoy! This took forever and unfortunately only includes John and Sherlock. Hopefully the next chapter will come sooner as I'm eager to write more of Moriarty.
> 
> Also, lemme know if you'd like to be my beta. I sorely need one!

John was whistling a jaunty tune as he returned to the lab. Molly was long gone and Sherlock appeared to be in his Mind Palace, although he looked up as John closed the door behind him.

Eyeing John critically, Sherlock started, “You didn’t go to the loo. You met someone and things got physical, yet not violent. You were the aggressor and highly attracted to the woman you pressed against the wall. No kissing, which implies she was not as receptive as you would like, however you remain hopeful as she didn’t rightfully slap you, only pushed you away.”

“Very good Sherlock.” John laughed. “You only got one thing wrong.”

Sherlock looked scandalized before pouting and inspecting John closer.

“You went to the loo first?” Sherlock asked, though it was clear he was attempting to make it a statement.

“No. It was a man, not a woman.” John said carefully, watching closely for Sherlock’s reaction, which was immediate.

“You’re not gay.” Sherlock intoned immediately, as if reading from a manuscript long since memorized.

John smiled and walked around the counter before leaning against it, arms crossed in feigned nonchalance.

“I’m not.” He agreed, locking eyes with Sherlock pointedly, waiting for him to grasp what he was missing.

“You are bisexual.” Sherlock breathed out, eyes wide as if he were solving the greatest mystery on earth.

John nodded and gave him a moment to acclimate to the new knowledge. Sherlock turned narrowed eyes on John and pursed his lips.

“Why did you not reveal this to me earlier?” He asked, and John detected the small trace of hurt hidden behind the inquisitive tone.

“Well, I did come on to you the day we met. You brushed me off rather explicitly so I thought you knew. By the time I realized you didn’t, it seemed like a moot point and I don’t normally tell people. It’s just easier to let them assume when I’m meeting their expectations anyway.”

Sherlock grimaced. "Ah, yes. It's always something. I had assumed I misread your intent after your vehement denials and obvious attraction to women."

"I'm sorry Sherlock. It's not that I don't trust you or didn't want you to know. It was just…habit."

Sherlock gave a curt nod and moved one of the trainers closer to John. "Back to business then. Go on."

John looked at him in amusement, gently teasing. "You want me to deduce them. Won't that ruin your fun?"

"An outside eye, a second opinion. It’s very useful to me."

_Yeah right._ John thought. Well, this would certainly be an entertaining way to reveal his true mental prowess, now that he had revealed his sexual orientation. He would start out slow.

"Very well." He replied as he picked it up and examined it closely. "They are well cared for, but obviously well used. The owner doted on these, fixed and cleaned them meticulously. Traces of a name inside, felt tip. So a minor, feet larger than average for his age."

John paused to gauge Sherlock's reaction.

"Excellent, what else?"

"Flakey skin on the laces, they've been changed several times by someone with Eczema. The soles are more worn on the inside, weak arches. Something bad has happened to the owner, he would never have let mud dry on them to this extent, nor be parted from them in this manner." John finished, placing the trainer back on the counter.

Sherlock stared…and stared some more.

_Oh god, I broke him._ John thought madly.

The silence stretch on uncomfortably before Sherlock shook himself from his stupor.

"I must admit John, I had high hopes that you would be able to learn my methods, but I did not expect it to that extent. Explain." He demanded.

_Here we go._

"I'm sure you've deduced the type of childhood I had by now. My father was a violent man and is the reason I trained myself to appear completely straight and, well…"

"You were forced to downplay your intelligence." Sherlock concluded for him. Appearing for all the world as if he were devastatingly offended.

"Yes."

Sherlock scowled. "I can't believe I missed all of this. How could you let me assume you were normal? Certainly well above the masses, but normal all the same. How could you stand to be around them and not correct them all the time?" He sounded genuinely confused at the end.

"Habit. The last time I corrected my father, he broke my arm and threw me down the basement stairs. It just became easier and easier to bite my tongue, to act as oblivious as those around me, to play completely straight."

Sherlock's face grew more and more appalled. "Why are you telling me now?"

"You're my best friend Sherlock. I want you to know me."

Visibly touched, Sherlock gave a small smile before turning his attention to the monitor. John wasn't offended, he understood Sherlocks need to pretend he had no emotions, no matter how poorly he did so.

"You did very well. I can only add two things. The results of the mud analysis show its from Sussex, with London mud overlaying it." He explained, pointing to the map. "Also, these shoes are original, Limited Edition from 1989." He finished, showing the research from his mobile.

"Brilliant." John grinned. "So we have a child with big feet who owned these trainers and came to London from Sussex twenty years ago and left them behind. Likely kidnapped or murdered or both."

"Oh." Sherlock quietly gasped. "Carl Powers."

"Is that supposed to mean something?"

"Carl Powers owned these shoes. His was the first case I ever pursued, though I was just a child myself so I was unable to make the police see reason."

"What happened?"

"He was a champion swimmer, came up from Brighton for a tournament. He had some sort of fit in the water and drowned before they could rescue him. Everyone agreed it was a tragic accident."

"But you didn't." John finished knowingly.

"No, there was something off. His clothes and personal effects were all in his locker but his shoes, these shoes, were missing. They've not been seen until now."

"Alright, so we know who they belonged to and we know when he died. Is there a specific question we're meant to answer or did Jim just tell you to 'solve the puzzle'?"

Everything froze.

"Jim?" Sherlock asked, eyes burning.

"Ah, yes… well. I only found out recently and with all the excitement I forgot to tell you." he attempted to placate.

"Tell me John." Sherlock demanded.

So John explained the situation as best he could and tried not to leave anything out. He explained his instant attraction, the subtle clues of Jim's act, the confrontation in the elevator and the revelation that Jim from IT was in fact Jim Moriarty.

Sherlock, hands steepled, listened intently. Processing and reorganizing his Mind Palace yet again.

"I assume that you would prefer this game not to end in Moriarty's death or imprisonment." Sherlock stated.

John gave a firm nod. "I want him Sherlock. I want to keep him."

"Then you shall have him. We'll simply have to play his game but add in our own twists to affect the outcome."

The pair grinned at each other. As a united front they would be a formidable force.

"To answer your original question, he only said it was a puzzle to solve. The only component we're really missing at this point is the cause of death."

John quirked and eyebrow and asked, "Any theories."

"Several." Sherlock scoffed.

"Well let's try to narrow it down a bit. I'm thinking the shoes will hold the key. Jim isn't the sort to collect trophies, he wold have taken these shoes for a reason."

"You're thinking poison."

"It makes sense. Something untraceable as it wasn't found during the autopsy." John concluded, relishing in speaking up for once. He was feeling more like a valued partner than the usual bumbling sidekick.

Sherlock nodded along, proud but slightly off kilter due to the sudden change in their dynamic. "Precisely what I was thinking. Likely something introduced into Carl's eczema medication."

"Brilliant."

And just like that they were back in sync. Flowing around each other and working toward a common goal, stronger and smarter than before.

John was relieved. All the time he'd spent worrying and concocting worst case scenarios seemed laughably absurd now.

A happy "Ah ha!" broke John out of his thoughts and walked back to the desk Sherlock was working on.

"Clostridium botulinum." He announced.

John stopped and frowned. "That can't be right."

"I'm very familiar with this poison John, it's very clear. Take a look." Sherlock nearly sneered, gesturing toward the microscope. John made a mental note to contradict him more gently in the future.

Taking a peak at the slide through the microscope John confirmed. "Clostridium botulinum."

He noticed Sherlock nod and smile smugly but was too preoccupied in thinking. He began to murmur out loud. "The toxin wouldn't be visible after 20 years, it would have shown on the autopsy report, and Carl would not have reacted that way to a small one time dosing of a lotion."

They were both silent for a moment, John in introspection and Sherlock in disbelief. He had missed something yet again!

"Well," John began, "I think we can safely say that the poison you found was recently introduced. He wanted us to find that answer and it probably is the correct answer. He must have been about 13, already somewhat powerful as he was able to ensure the poison wasn't reported in the autopsy. This must have been personal, he would have been slowly poisoning Carl for a while to build up the levels necessary to cause Carl to drown."

Sherlock shrugged off his stupor and agreed. "Yes, it was so elegant, I overlooked the obvious holes. Good work John."

John smiled warmly and asked, "What should we do now?"

"Well, originally I was going to post the answer on my site, however since he left his card it may be better to simply text him. Perhaps from your phone." Sherlock suggested.

"That sounds perfect." John said happily, retrieving his mobile and trying to prevent himself from full out gushing.

As they left Bart's John laughed internally. _Jim isn't going to know what hits him._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the next chapter, we'll get Jim's reaction to the elevator scene as well as the text!


	4. Jim's Lair

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim is on the rampage and tries to sort out his conflicting emotions while learning more about John.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter came much sooner than I expected. I want to thank everyone who has left kudos and comments. Every time an alert popped up in my mailbox it inspired me to write a little more. I'm amazed at all the wonderful comments and suggestions.
> 
> Note that the rating has gone up as Jim gets a little solo naughty time. I thought he deserved it after his frustrating time in the lift!
> 
> Still not beta'd or brit picked. Volunteers welcome!

"SEB!" Jim yelled upon entering his lair. So what if it wasn't dark and in a cave or volcano. He liked to call it his lair.

In reality, it was a [glamorous penthouse](http://meganlynn4244.tumblr.com/post/132756589336/this-is-kind-of-how-i-picture-jims-lair-in-what) in the heart of London with an open floor plan and floor to ceiling windows. He had converted it into a base of operations but the entire space was light and airy and beautiful.

_Hateful_ , Jim thought mutinously. _I really should buy a volcano. Or kill the designer._

But that wasn't his focus at the moment. Someone had gotten too close for comfort and the need to reaffirm his control was beating a heavy tempo in his head.

"SEB!" He yelled again, high and agitated.

A minion scampered into another room while a goon with a gun flinched.

_Oh yes,_ he smirked internally, _I still have it._

Finally, he saw Sebastian Moran make his way down the stairs from the loft offices. His pace was quick but with an unhurried air of confidence. This was one of the reasons the ex-army professional had been his right hand for so long. Nothing fazed him.

"Mr. Moriarty. I assume all did _not_ go well at Bart's?" He questioned as he approached.

"John Watson." Jim spat out. "I want everything we have on him and more. I want to know everything about him and I need to know if he's had contact with any of our people. He knew too much."

"Of course sir. Timeline?"

"Yesterday!"

"I'll have a preliminary report ready for you in thirty minutes." He promised, making his way back to the offices upstairs. Inside there were state of the art computers and a few geniuses without morals on the payroll.

Jim knew they would get the job done, so left them to it.

He slowly stalked away in the opposite direction toward the master suite. There was an itch under his skin and he hoped that shedding his Jim from IT clothing and replacing them with his Westwood would resolve it.

The bedroom was blissfully dark. The lone window was covered with heavy light blocking curtains and the walls and carpet were complimentary shades of brown. The heavy furniture was a dark rich wood and the few decorative pieces were a deep midnight blue.

Jim strode toward his walk in closet and flipped the light switch. His eyes were drawn to the large wall mirror handing on the back of the door. The man staring back was not the man who had confidently dressed and left that morning.

Why was he so affected? He could still feel it. His back pressed against the hard elevator wall. A hard hot body holding him captive. He shuddered, body once again betraying him.

It had been many years since he was last intimate with someone. Luckily, Molly had only required a few dates and light cuddling. All of his past sexual conquests had been about furthering his empire and he hadn't needed to lower himself that way in years.

He shivered in disgust, remembering the unsavory men he had given himself to in his early years. Sex had never been enjoyable for him, but sex with men had always been infinitely more difficult to act through. At least with women he could exert some control.

But with John… Oh it had felt different. He'd felt off kilter and even submissive, things he normally hated. Then again he'd also felt desired and strangely safe. His body had reacted without his permission and it felt… _freeing_.

Jim glanced down and was both astonished and unsurprised to see he had an erection. Normal people would masturbate, he knew, but he had never felt the need to do so and was unsure how to proceed.

Carefully, he undressed and then looked back toward the mirror. He looked so unlike himself in that moment. Face and chest flushed, pupils dilated, chest heaving unevenly, lips parted, and a hard cock jutting out obscenely.

He wasn't James Moriarty, he was John's Jim.

A crazed giggle escaped him.

He wasn't sure where that thought had come from, but it made his cock throb pitifully and he watched raptly as a bead of precum oozed from the tip. It was borderline painful.

Tentatively, still studying himself in the mirror, he reached out to grasp himself.

"Oh god." He couldn't help but moan out.

His cock was hot and he could feel it pulsating as he adjusted his grip, holding the shaft just a bit too tightly and avoiding the head altogether.

He stilled himself and breathed deeply until he regained some semblance of control.

Biting his lip he began to pump, gently. He stroked from root to tip, palming the head to smear his precum along his length. That felt so much better and he let out a shaky exhale as he began to thrust into his fist in earnest.

The pleasure was making him dizzy so he slowly stepped backwards until his legs hit the bed. He sat quickly and readjusted his rhythm. It felt so good but somehow it wasn't enough. What was he missing?

Groaning, he quickened his pace. The friction was becoming unbearable but it still wasn't enough to push him over the edge. It was beyond frustrating. Little grunts and sighs left his lips; he would be embarrassed by his lack of control later.

He thought back to his encounter with John in the elevator and whimpered as his lust surged. That's what he needed, he needed John to hold him down and tell him he was delectable again.

"Oh!" He gasped. That was it.

His cock pulsed and he shook through his orgasm, letting out a continuous whine as his cum shot onto the carpet.

He panted in the aftermath, wondering if it would be as good or better with John. Against his will he began to hope that John hadn't lied to him.

Jim glanced at the clock, it had been nearly thirty minutes and Seb would be presenting his findings on John soon. Anticipation coiled in his stomach as he raced to shower and dress.

A short time later he left the bedroom and made his way into the main living area where he found Seb waiting for him.

"Tell me." Jim drawled.

"Dr. John Hamish Watson, parents deceased, formerly RAMC and of the Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers…"

"All of that was in the first report _doofus--_! I want what you imbeciles missed last time!" Jim demanded.

"Yes sir." Seb answered irreverently and flipped to another page. "I can assure you he's had no contact with our people."

Jim nodded relieved and motioned for Seb to continue.

"We dug into his school and hospital reports. This bloke was a genius as a kid. In Primary, he had perfect marks and all of his teachers gave exceptional reviews. In fact, most of them suggested he skip a level or two. His first year at King Edward VI Grammar School went much the same but during his Second Form he began performing averagely. Teachers suspected it had to do with his mother's death and left him alone. The mothers death was deemed an accident but we suspect it was either suicide or her husband murdered her, it's clear he was an abusive alcoholic."

"Did the beast ever hurt my Johnny boy?" Jim demanded, agitated and beginning to pace.

Seb outwardly ignored the possessive pronoun but sighed internally, knowing his life was about to get more interesting. He subtly gave the sign for careful withdraw and the few men loitering in the common areas retreated upstairs. This wasn't going to be pretty.

"Not officially, but we suspect so. See, John didn't immediately start performing below his standard when his mother died. Two weeks after, he was sent to the hospital with bruises, multiple lacerations and broken bones. Official record says he fell down the stairs, and he likely did, but not before someone beat him to a bloody pulp. When he was released and back in school he slowly lowered his grades. Comparing to the rest of his form, it's clear he did so on purpose, always scoring exactly in the middle."

Jim froze, face red as he silently seethed. John hadn't lied, he was a genius in disguise, but why was he still hiding it, what had his father done to him behind closed doors?

He wanted to fix this for his Johnny boy, but it was all in the past. _The father isn't even alive to torture!_

At that final thought Jim's rage was unleashed. With a growl he lashed out and began breaking everything in the vicinity. Glass table tops were shattered, decorative pieces which could be broken were flung across the area indiscriminately, lamps were thrashed, and when that was done Jim whipped out his favorite knife and began slicing the upholstery, imagining it was the late Mr. Watson.

Throughout it all, Seb remained in parade rest. Once again he was glad he had talked Jim out of carrying a gun.

When Jim finally calmed he slowly sheathed his knife and returned it to his inner jacket pocket.

"How did daddy dearest die?" He asked as he walked back toward Seb, glass crunching beneath his heel.

"He drowned in the bath, John was the one to find him. His Blood Alcohol Level was at .821%."

Jim perked up, "Give me the report!"

Seb provided the relevant papers and watched as Jim snatched them and began poring over the details manically.

After a moment, Jim lowered the papers and threw his head back, laughing heartily.

"Oh, naughty Johnny boy. Very naughty indeed." Jim murmured delightedly.

"Sir"? Seb asked.

"The father only drank beer that night, it would have taken ages to drink the amount needed for that kind of BAL. He didn't get into that bath on his own power. Johnny boy helped him along to his death!"

Jim grinned darkly. This was perfect, John was perfect.

"What else did you find?"

"After his father died, he and his sister remained in their childhood home for a year until John was of legal age. John finished in the top 10 of his form. The rest is the same as our previous reports however we did find a few discrepancies in his army files. It appears he had a few Black Ops assignments. We're looking into it." Seb finished.

"Lovely. Cancel the rest of the pips, I'm bored with Sherlock. We'll let him finish the current puzzle but no more…"

He was interrupted by the insistent **Ding** of a mobile receiving a text. He was only carrying three today so it was fairly simple to fish out the correct device immediately.

Jim squealed happily, it was his Jim from IT phone and the text was from John.

> **JHW:** Found trainers belonging to Carl Powers (1978-1989) Fresh Botulinum toxin introduced prior to drop off. **  
> **  
>  **JHW:** Did he hurt you? I wish I had been there to help you punish him. **  
> **  
>  **JHW:** By now, you've probably found out all about me. Dinner tonight? Anything your heart desires, because all I desire is you.

Seb couldn’t help but gape as he saw his boss blush, actually blush, and sigh happily.

"Have our little Miss Pip One call Sherly and tell him where she is. Then get me a table for tonight at Le Gavroche, 7:30, their best table or heads will roll." Jim ordered Seb distractedly as he typed his reply.

> **JM:** Well done Johnny boy. Sherly will be getting a call soon and can send his pet DI to rescue the poor woman. Tell him our game is over.  
>   
>  **JM:** As for you, I'll pick you up at 221B at 7. Dress to the nines pet, we have a long evening ahead of us.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes I may post a preview of the next chapter on my tumblr account. It's really not the most amazing blog, but if you'd like you can find me there as meganlynn4244


	5. Whatever Suits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock helps John get ready for his date.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter expands on John and Sherlock's friendship a bit. Next chapter is the date, I promise!

They had just made it home and removed their coats when John received Jim's response.

"Sherlock! It worked, he's agreed to a date!" John exclaimed, shoving the mobile into Sherlock’s face in over enthusiastic glee.

Sherlock rolled his eyes and quirked a small smile.

"Of course he did." Sherlock replied. "He's not an idiot and only an idiot would turn you down."

John laughed and reminded him, "You turned me down."

To his astonishment Sherlock blushed and looked away. The emotional response was so uncharacteristic that John felt suddenly wrong footed.

"Sherlock, I…I didn't mean…I didn't think you..."

"No John, don't worry. I'm not… pining." Sherlock assured, spitting out the last word. "I'll admit, I've thought about it. I'm not an idiot. You're my friend and the best man I know, it would be…good…with you. But in the end, I couldn't make you happy, not in the way you need, the way you deserve. We're better as friends."

Sherlock finally looked up and John was sure that his own face was showing the same signs of pain and discomfort.

"I don't know what to say. I always figured you were asexual." John started.

Sherlock scoffed and flopped onto the couch.

"Labels are boring John!" He complained, then sighed. "If forced, I would say I am asexual and aromantic. That doesn't mean I don't love you, in my own way. I just want you to be happy, even if that means helping you obtain a criminal mastermind as a lover." Sherlock finished, sardonically.

"I love you too, Sherlock. You're my best friend. You saved me. If I had known…"

Sherlock jerked into a sitting position and interrupted.

"I know John. You would have been accommodating. You would have tried and maybe we would have spent the rest of our lives together just as we have been but without the annoying women you bring about, or men now that you've admitted to being bisexual, but you would not be as happy as you could be. You are highly sexual, highly romantic. You would have soldiered on without it and I couldn't let you. You deserve more than I can give."

John was speechless. He knew Sherlock cared but he had never expected such verbal effusions.

"Enough of this outpouring of sentiment. I just needed you to know that you should be confident in your appeal. Moriarty should consider himself lucky that he caught your eye."

"Thank you Sherlock. Really."

They were then (thankfully) interrupted by the ringing of the pink phone.

Sherlock quickly answered and listened intently. John could only imagine how terrified the poor woman must be and wondered how she'd been chosen. He was sure Jim hadn't randomly selected his kidnapee.

Sherlock responded to whatever the woman had said with a firm voice. "Where are you? Tell us where you are."

A moment later he hung up and began texting furiously. John waited silently, patient as always.

"Alright?" He asked as Sherlock slowed.

"Yes yes. She told me where she is and Lestrade is on his way to rescue her as we speak." He responded glumly.

"What?" John asked, smiling as he predicted the answer. "Bored already?"

Petulantly, Sherlock agreed. "Of course, seeing as how your Jim has ended the game."

"My Jim. I really like the sound of that." He replied, smile once again stretching across his face goofily.

"Sentiment." Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"Excuse me for being excited about--Oh God!" John finished on a moan and he knew he must look as horrified as he felt as he pressed his palms to his eyes while he attempted to calm himself.

When he looked up Sherlock was staring intently.

"Stop deducing me." He sighed.

"What's wrong? Obviously something about your date, which you were previously happy about so I am at a loss as to why you are suddenly distraught."

"He said to dress up. I don't have anything to wear!"

Sherlock’s worried frown cleared into a smirk and he began texting once again.

John let out a frustrated growl, "This is serious Sherlock!"

"Oh I quite agree, the state of your wardrobe is woeful at best. I've just scheduled a fitting for you with my tailor, he's agreed to rush a bespoke suit for you."

John gaped after Sherlock as he twirled into his coat.

"Come along John, I finally have a chance to get you into some proper clothes. It's Christmas!" Sherlock exclaimed.

John smiled fondly and reached out for his coat. "What would I do without you?"

"Crash and burn." Sherlock joked.

The next hour was a whirlwind. John was pushed into a cab and then led into a small shop on Saville Row.

From there, he was dressed down to his pants and measured, poked, and prodded while Sherlock and the tailor discussed cuts and fabrics. It all went completely over his head so he didn't begrudge Sherlock taking control.

He was so extremely uncomfortable, especially when the tailor moved his dangly bits out of the way for an additional measurement. It took all of his self-control not to punch the little man in his squinty little face.

By the time they left John was yearning for a pint and dreading their return visit. He simply followed Sherlock down the street, dazed.

Sherlock easily read his friends mood. "Come now John. It wasn't that bad. You were in a war for heaven’s sake."

"War I can handle, this wasn't war. You may be used to it, you posh bastard, but I've just been molested and I'm feeling vulnerable at the moment." John exclaimed dramatically, then groaned and slowed. "I forgot to ask how much this suit is going to cost."

"No need to fret, I'll pay for it."

"Hold on now, I can buy my own suit!"

"£4,500 to £6,000." Sherlock answered in a tone that made it clear he thought he had won.

"Not a problem." John bit out.

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "John, you're always complaining about the bills being paid late. Your locum work doesn't bring much in nor does your army pension and we've not had a paying client in weeks."

It was sweet, really, but John had more than enough hidden away to splurge on a date outfit. Even if it was absurdly expensive.

"I said it wasn't a problem and it's not."

"You don't even have the required amount in your savings account."

John scowled. "I'm not going to ask how you know that."

"I looked on your banks website. Your login details were absurdly easy to deduce."

"I meant I didn't want to know how you knew that! In any case, I have another account under an alias." John confessed.

At this Sherlock looked sharply toward him and asked, "More secrets?"

Guiltily, John nodded. "I have a government pension along with quite a lot of income from my army days."

"The army doesn't… Ah. Of course. Black Ops contracts." Sherlock marveled.

"Yes, well, it's all top secret, though I'm sure Mycroft could send you some details if you've the clearance." He confessed sheepishly.

"How much do you have?"

"Well, more than I feel comfortable with. Before I was invalidated, I only used the account to set up and maintain a safe house. When I met you, I got a second safe house and set up false identities just in case we needed it. Other than that, I don't touch it."

Sherlock stared in amazement.

"How many of your contracts were for assassinations?" He asked, tone curious and in no way recriminating.

John considered his response. Should he tell the whole truth? Soften it or lie? In the end, he decided to go with full honesty as he had earlier in the day.

"Most of my work was in killing assigned marks. Anyone they needed taken out; dignitaries or rebels or spies. I was good at it and completed far too many to count. Sometimes my orders were to torture, other times a clean kill."

John watched as Sherlock processed his answer, hopeful that this wouldn't change anything. He wasn't disappointed.

"Would you kill Anderson if I paid you?" Sherlock asked, only somewhat jokingly.

John laughed but offered his serious answer. "I can't go killing people for being idiots, but if he hurt you…you wouldn't need to pay."

Sherlock looked quite pleased with this. "Acceptable. In that case you may pay for the suit." He finished with an about face, proceeding down the street.

"Why thank you Your Majesty, for allowing me to purchase my own clothing." John replied sarcastically, rolling his eyes and following along.

"Quite alright, now onto the barber. You need a professional shave and a trim. After which it should be time for your fitting. Do keep up."

At the barber shop, John allowed Sherlock to once again take the lead. He'd never had someone shave him before and it was more relaxing than he had thought possible, what with someone taking a blade to his neck and face.

He even let Sherlock talk him into a quick manicure to clean up his hands. Luckily no polish was mentioned.

By the time they returned to the tailor, John was feeling relaxed and pampered. Sherlock had taken advantage of the services as well and had a spring in his step normally reserved for locked room murders.

"We should do this more often." John said.

"Perhaps. When there are no cases." Sherlock replied, though John could see how pleased and surprised he was by the suggestion.

They got through the fitting fairly quickly, the tailor pinning the suit and planning a number of adjustments. John had to admit, the suit was already looking spectacular.

They left the shop once again with the promise of a finished suit to be delivered to their flat before six.

"What now?" John asked.

"You're asking me? The man who doesn't date?"

"Well you've been pretty knowledgeable so far!"

"In grooming oneself, yes. You're the dating expert. Shall we take you for an STD test?"

They paused for a beat before breaking out into laughter.

"Berk." John smiled, as they regained their breath.

"Well, what do you suggest?"

"I'm going home to eat lunch, tidy up, shower, and manscape. You should go talk to your brother about his case."

Sherlock huffed. "Intolerable."

"Yes, it's all very unfair. If you finish early, find something to do at Bart's. I don't want you interrogating or deducing Jim when he picks me up." John ordered firmly.

Sherlock shot John a petulant look.

"I mean it Sherlock."

"Fine fine, I'll make myself scarce. Will you be bringing him back to the flat to fornicate?"

John spluttered out, "Sherlock! I don't… You can't… Please call it anything but fornicating."

"That would be a yes then." Sherlock deduced, typing feverishly on his mobile. "I'll stay with Molly and return in the morning."

John didn't know what to say, so he just let his face show his thanks.

They smiled in shared camaraderie before turning to go their separate ways.

"Oh John." Sherlock called out.

"Yeah?"

"Manscaping? Honestly?" Sherlock teased.


	6. Picking Up John

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim thought he was prepared for the beginning of their date. Turns out, he was wrong!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The longest chapter yet! Hope you enjoy!
> 
> I also made a little something to share how I pictured Jim and John dressed in this chapter [here](http://meganlynn4244.tumblr.com/post/133794352166/i-did-a-thing-not-a-great-thing-but-at-least).

Jim was not nervous. Really. He was an evil mastermind. He didn't _do_ nervous. He was just on his way to pick up his date. His first actual, real, not an act, date.

Deep breaths.

Seb had laughed at him. Not obviously, he wasn't suicidal. More of a choked off almost laugh before his blank soldier face returned. Jim probably would have made a mental note to punish him later if he hadn't been quite so busy researching first date etiquette.

Dating was so much easier when it was for business. When he'd spent months researching his target and planning. When all he had to do was adopt the perfect persona to manipulate his mark.

Going on a date as himself, actually caring, was a completely different experience. This meant research into first date etiquette was necessary and not to be mocked, damn it.

John was different. He saw the real Jim and liked what he saw, he made him feel… and he was so fucking fit!

So now he was in the back of his car, being driven to 221B Baker Street by Seb, with a bouquet of red roses in his lap and a mental list of appropriate first date topics running on repeat in his mind.

Compiling that list had not been easy when so many of the "help" sites were contradictory. Should he avoid inflammatory topics like politics and children or ensure they discussed it before agreeing to another date?

And that was the most terrifying part. Another date. His goal was to impress John enough so that he would _want_ another date. Jim had no idea how he was supposed to do this when he was still mystified as to why John had wanted this first date.

How did normal people do this! Give him a crime to design, a war to start, a high placed official to bribe; Jim would shine. This sentiment fueled lark was truly nerve wracking.

"Boss? We're here." Came Seb's voice over the intercom. It sounded like he had attempted to gain Jim's attention multiple times.

_When did we stop?_ Jim asked himself, only slightly panicked.

He hadn't felt this embarrassed and out of control since little Carl Powers had pushed him down and taunted him in front of the whole class. He wasn't going to kill Seb or John though. Well, maybe Seb, later though and only if he laughed again.

"I know that, moron." Jim snapped to cover his lapse in attention.

He breathed deeply once more and then got out of the car.

All the sites had agreed on a few basics. He was to pick John up at his door and give him the flowers along with a compliment. Then at dinner he had to keep the conversation flowing and be nice, even to the wait staff. When they were done he would pay and bring John home, back to his door, where he would then (hopefully) get one kiss and find out if he would get a second date.

Being nice to others would be difficult but refraining from talking to Johns breasts should be easy, seeing as he had none. Feeling settled with the confidence of having a plan in place, Jim knocked on the door and waited.

A moment later the door was opened by an old woman. _Martha Louise Hudson._ Jim's mind supplied. _Landlady, former exotic dancer. Widow of murderer Frank Hudson. Be nice._

"Good evening Mrs. Hudson. I'm here to retrieve John for our date." He said, smiling as normally as he could. He thought he had succeeded when she smiled back.

"Oh, Jim dear. John is ever so excited. He's been getting ready all day." She started while beckoning him inside. This wasn't part of the plan but he allowed the deviation with grace.

He followed as she continued. "He was in a right state, so I made him lunch and tea and stayed a bit, the place needed a bit of a tidying, though I'm not the housekeeper of course."

She led him into 221A and motioned for him to sit while she poured tea.

"He should be ready soon and I know how first dates can be. Have a spot of tea to settle those nerves." She ordered kindly before continuing to chatter away.

Jim was flummoxed so he just nodded where it felt appropriate and sipped the tea. People didn't normally talk at him like this but he found it was indeed starting to soothe his anxiety.

"You look splendid in that suit. Business man?"

"Yes ma'am."

"That's nice dear. You must make a good deal for such a handsome suit. Do you work someplace nice?"

"Yes. Well, I work for myself. Consulting." Jim answered. Feeling uncomfortable but using this time to practice his small talk.

"Oh, like dear Sherlock!" She said, face lighting up.

"Somewhat." He admitted, wincing at the thought of misleading her.

She seemed to understand the undertone and gave him a searching look.

"My ex-husband was a criminal you know." She started, confoundingly casual as she stirred her tea unnecessarily. "Mostly petty crimes, but he was good at it and it made him happy so I didn't mind so much."

"Oh." Was all Jim could say. He wondered if he should be looking for an escape route.

"Yes, it was all fine until the day he started killing innocents and hitting me. The lout. Luckily for me Sherlock was able to ensure his execution."

Jim was internally outraged, harming those in your care was something he didn't tolerate. Killing innocents… well, innocence was relative. His distaste must have shown because Mrs. Hudson's face cleared.

"Those boys are like sons to me. I trust you won't make any similar mistakes." Her face still kind but somehow steely underneath.

Jim nodded, astonished that he felt somewhat afraid of this tiny old woman.

"Well dear, he should be about ready. You can go on up. I'll be turning in early with the TV on, so I won't hear if you boys should get up to anything rowdy."

Jim flushed and nodded again, words escaping him. Mrs. Hudson simply gave him a fond look and an affectionate tap on the cheek before showing him out.

As he stood in the hall trying to get his bearings, he laughed softly.

That woman was a force to be reckoned with. She had interrogated and threatened him with the force and subtlety he only wished his men possessed. He wondered if she would accept a job offer.

Finally, he couldn't stall any longer. Soft steps led him up the stairs and he gave the roses one last cursory glance before firmly knocking.

A moment later, though it felt like ages, the door opened to reveal John. A John he hadn't expected and was therefore all the more delighted to greet. He was wearing a black suit with a crisp white button up and a dark reddish tie. He looked amazing and not at all like a frumpy jumper wearer.

Jim promptly forgot the charming greeting he had memorized and thrust the roses between them.

"These are for you because you're pretty… handsome. The suit is good. I mean you look good in the suit."

"You were expecting me in a jumper weren't you?" John asked, brow lifted.

Jim wisely didn’t answer.

John grinned largely and, taking pity on him, accepted the flowers. "Thank you Jim. You look exquisite, good enough to eat." He finished with a wolfish grin.

John's eyes burned a trail down the length of Jim's body and he felt his breath catch, still unused to the visceral reaction his body had to John’s obvious flirtations.

"Thank you." He replied as he mentally urged his cheeks to stop flushing.

He had a feeling he wasn't succeeding as John took a deep breath and his eyes darkened.

"Come in." John said and didn't wait for a response before making his way inside.

Upset at his plans being waylaid yet again but becoming familiar with the sensation, Jim squared his shoulders and relented. He followed John into the kitchen and watched him open and peer though cupboards.

_Looking for a vase_ , Jim deduced. Mystery solved, Jim used John’s inattention to peer around the flat. It was a little messy but his previous surveillance of the place corroborated with Mrs. Hudson's claim of tidying earlier in the day. A few hidden surveillance cameras were stashed about but he managed to slip though their blind spots out of reflex.

His perusal was interrupted by John.

"So, what are our plans for the evening?"

"Dinner reservations at Le Gavroche. I have a car waiting downstairs. Then I'll bring you home, or if you want to go somewhere else we can do that." Jim suddenly wished he had made further plans, but he wasn't sure how long John would like him. A dark part of his brain insisted it wouldn't be long, but he squashed that thought ruthlessly.

"That sounds lovely Jim." The boyish grin on Johns face made his belly flutter.

"Good. Are you ready to go?" Jim asked hopefully. None of this evening had got to plan so far and he was eager to get back on track.

"Actually, I need one more thing before we leave." John responded, walking closer until they were practically touching.

"Oh?" Jim responded nervously. How did this man have such an effect on him?

John grinned as if he could see Jim's thoughts.

"I need to kiss you. I'm afraid if I don't taste you I'll not be able to think of anything else all night." John teased.

"NO!" Came Jim's vehement denial, and John's face fell as he quickly stepped back. "We can't kiss until the date is over. Nothing has gone to plan but this one is important. All the sites state we have to wait."

This really was the last straw and Jim could feel his face heating again, though with anger this time.

Jim froze, mortified that he may have already ruined the date. _Shit_ , he thought and continued in a panic, taking advantage of John's shocked silence.

"I'm sorry." He blurted, earnestly apologizing for the first time in his life. "I just want this to be perfect."

John's face softened and (to Jim's relief) he smiled.

"So you made a plan?"

"Yes, well, several sites and blogs provided a formula for proper normal first dates." He replied seriously.

John sighed, "You are so adorable."

Jim made a face, not sure how to take that, and allowed John to slip back into his personal space.

"Jim, do you think I'm ordinary?" He asked, hands coming up to rest on Jim's hips.

"Of course not!" Jim answered in a surprised tone. "You've become increasingly fascinating and extraordinary as I've learned more about you."

John looked pleased. "Thank you. You are far from ordinary as well. You're sweet and lethal, mad and controlled, and I don't think I've ever been so instantly attracted to someone in all my life."

Jim gulped and looked down, unable to face the heat in John's eyes. "Well, I think you may be the sweet one Johnny boy."

"We'll have to agree to disagree there." He grinned. "So with neither of us being ordinary, why would we need to follow societal norms for our first date?"

Jim's head shot up. "But we need to have a plan; I don't want to do something wrong and scare you off." He argued.

"I'm not easily scared, darling." John responded, smug and grinning at Jim like he was the most precious thing John had ever seen.

Jim wasn't convinced but John lifted a hand to cradle Jim's cheek and Jim couldn’t resist nuzzling into the soft touch. He felt starved for it, though he hadn't known how desperately he wanted John's hand on him before then.

"Here's a plan; we'll talk about whatever we wish, touch whenever we want, and not put on a polite face. I want to go out with _you_ , Jim, not a watered down facsimile of you."

Jim's breath stuttered out and his eyes fluttered helplessly. Once again, John was setting himself apart and making him _feel_.

He could only nod.

"Perfect, my lovely Jim. May I kiss you now?"

Jim had never liked kissing, but the steady heat of John's body and the soft presence of his hand on his cheek made him feel weak, so he simply nodded again.

John moved in closer and breathed his thanks against Jim's lips before slotting them oh so perfectly together. He started softly, shallow but firm, and Jim was thankful that John was controlling their first kiss. The hand on his cheek guided him toward the best angle and the kiss deepened.

Jim was just starting to relax into it when he felt the soft wet brush of John's tongue on his bottom lip and suddenly the mood shifted from one of soft exploration to a hot desperate want. The kiss became fiercer and deeper as John's tongue dominated Jims.

A mewl escaped him and John's answering growl made his cock swell so swiftly he felt lightheaded. At this point John was ravishing his mouth and Jim was riding the wave of unfamiliar desire, holding onto John's surprisingly broad shoulders to remain upright.

He could become addicted to the hot copper taste and lush feel of John's mouth against his. He felt owned and desired and out of control in the best possible way.

Trousers tightened uncomfortably, Jim couldn't resist rolling his hips to writhe closer to John, and the feel of John's own hardness made him whimper pitifully. John groaned and, using the hand still on Jim’s hip, pulled him closer to start rhythmically rocking their cocks together.

Jim felt frantic and needy as they rocked in tandem, lips never parting. They were breathing harshly and any finesse they’d had was gone now as they panted and licked into each other’s mouths.

Soon, he felt heat gathering in his lower abdomen and the telltale swelling of his cock indicating he was close. Startled, he wrenched away and out of John's embrace. John let out a disappointed groan but didn't fight the separation. It made Jim like him all the more.

After a moment used to calm himself, Jim looked up. John was still visibly affected, his eyes dark and hair mussed. It was achingly attractive and Jim had to resist the urge to fall into his arms all over again.

Steeling himself, he calmly apologized. “I'm sorry John. That was wonderful, I just needed to stop.”

John smiled softly. “No need to apologize, gorgeous, I'd never push you into something you don't want.”

“I wanted it John, really, but I'm wearing silk pants and I was very close to ruining them.” Jim admitted, somewhat shyly.

John groaned again and ran a hand over his face. “Damn it Jim, you can't say things like that when you want me to calm down. Makes me want to do filthy things to you.”

“Like what?” Jim asked coyly.

“Like push you over the arm of the couch and lick your lovely little hole open until you're gaping for me.” John ground out.

Jim was horrified. “People actually _do_ that?”

John let out a happy laugh. “Oh Jim, I'm going to enjoy introducing you to that particular pleasure.”

Flustered, Jim coughed and straightened his clothes. “Well, we’d best leave now. We wouldn't want to be late for our dinner reservations.”

He received a knowing look for his efforts before John agreed. “Alright, I am looking forward to learning more about you. Be prepared for intrusive questions.” John teased as he began straightening his own clothing.

As they made their way out to the car, Jim nearly floated. Nothing had gone to plan so far but this was so much better. He couldn't wait to see how it ended.


	7. The Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dinner is interesting, to say the least.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I know, I suck. This took forever and is not the lengthiest of chapters. Still, the adorable date scene was fun to write. I'm thinking one or two more chapters and then I'll call it complete. Can't believe what this one shot turned into!
> 
> Again, not beta'd or Brit picked. Volunteers welcome, especially as I work on other stories!

The drive to the restaurant was thankfully short and before Jim realized it they were being greeted by a bubbly blonde hostess. Jim hated her immediately.

"Good evening. Do you have a reservation with us?" She asked with a flirty smile, speaking directly to John and ignoring Jim. With a toss of her fake blonde hair, she leaned over her podium to display her…assets.

John simply looked amused as Jim fumed beside him.

"I think so." John replied when it became clear that Jim was set on silently murdering her with his eyes. "Darling, what name did you put it under?"

Jim relaxed as John wrapped an arm around his shoulders and brought them closer together.

"Moran." He drawled, tone lazy but menacing.

The hostess looked fairly annoyed but dutifully searched the reservation list. It was obvious when she found it as her face paled and she focused on Jim. He could only smirk, Seb had clearly ensured they knew who really owned this establishment and what the consequences were if he should be angered.

"R-right this way sir's." She breathed, gathering two menus and leading them to a well appointed table. Instead of opposing booths or separate chairs, this table had a rich green curved love seat. Perfect for a cozy date.

"This is very nice." John commented as he settled in next to Jim as the hostess hurried away. They were comfortable, not too close so as to bump while eating but near enough to smell, to feel each others warmth. It was oddly comforting to Jim.

"I'm glad you like it. I know the owner, so order whatever you like. It will be completely on the house." He grinned.

"Ah, showing off are we?" John teased.

Before Jim could respond, a waiter arrived. He was a nervous looking fellow, sweating noticeably and holding a tray in front of him like a shield.

"Good evening. I'm Marvin and I'll be taking care of you. May I start you off with a bottle of wine or a premium selection from our bar?" The waiter asked, voice only slightly quivering before he locked his jaw.

Jim was amused and so decided to take it easy on the poor scared mouse. "Bring us a bottle of Domaine de la Romanee -Conti. 1990 if you have it. We'll also have two waters."

"Yes sir, right away sir." The idiot actually bowed as he backed away. Jim glanced over at John and saw the same amusement sparkling in his eyes.

"Do you get this kind of treatment often?" John asked.

"Well, only when they know who I am, which isn't often. My head of security would have a fit. He probably has all of his men at full alert right now." Jim shared with a giggle.

A look of concern clouded John's face. "Is this dangerous for you? Is someone after you?" He asked, stiffening and looking about suspiciously.

"Well, I think Seb would be relieved if it were just someone. I have many groups of enemies as well as a plethora of individual malcontents. You can't get to the top without ruffling a few feathers." Jim explained gently.

A hard look entered John's eyes, and it was much like the look Jim had seen in Seb's when he killed. It was darker and more thrilling on John.

"Right. Well. Next time we go out I'm bringing my gun." John stated decisively.

The thought of John with a gun in hand did …things… to Jim, and he was thrilled that John was indicating future dates, so he readily agreed. "Whatever makes you feel safe Johnny Boy."

"I'm not worried about me." John scoffed. "I'm more concerned for you."

Before the moment could become too sentiment laden, Melvin the Nervous Waiter made a reappearance with their drinks.

"Here you are gentlemen. May I take your food order?" His voice was stronger this time but still laced with fear.

The two quickly ordered and Melvin scuttled away. John stared after him, perplexed, but quickly turned his attention back to Jim

They discussed light topics, learning a little more about each other as they waited for their dinner. Jim was pleased by John's rather macabre humor and story telling abilities while John was fascinated by the turn of Jim's mind and the full exuberant array of emotions he showed. It was the best date either had ever experienced.

John was giggling at the story of Jim's first burglary job when he happened to glance Marvin quickly approaching. He was holding his tray in front of him again, but this time hiding his other hand behind it. What arrested John attention though was the look on his face. It was one he'd seen many times. Sick nervousness mixed with righteous fury and decisiveness, all directed at an unsuspecting Jim. In the next moment, Marvin was at their table and a glint of metal launched John into soldier mode.

Too quickly to follow, a still chattering Jim was suddenly pulled closer into John's side with one arm while John's other hand grabbed Marvin's wrist and quickly snapped it, causing Marvin to scream in pain and drop the large butcher knife he'd been seconds away from plunging into Jim.

Before Jim could catch his breath John was launching himself over the table and onto the still wailing waiter. Patrons were screaming and Jim could see his security detail running in with guns drawn. This, of course, did nothing to calm the situation.

Above the din, Marvin kept shrieking, "You broke my wrist! You broke it!"

"Well you tried to kill my date, so I think you should consider yourself lucky." John explained wryly from atop Martin. He had secured the weapon and was holding him down with a knee to his back and one hand holding Martins unbroken wrist painfully against his back.

Jim let out a giggle and John looked up at the sound, beaming.

"Mr. Moriarty, Sir! Are you harmed?" A particularly brave but foolish security member asked as the group approached.

"I'm fine, no thanks to you lot. Where is Seb?! How did this mouse get through the security sweep?!" Jim shrieked, waving an arm and generally scaring the minions who had finally arrived.

"I'm right here Mr Moriarty." Seb inserted calmly as he arrived at the scene. He immediately took stock of the situation and barked out orders for his men to collect Marvin which allowed John to stand up. With their immediate supervisor present to shield them from the Boss, they efficiently carried out their orders.

"Seb, what were my orders?" Jim asked coldly.

"Full sweeps and high alert to ensure your date ran smoothly and without interruption." Seb replied, resigned.

Jim nodded thoughtfully. "And do you think you've succeeded?" He asked silkily.

"We'll find out what happened Mr Moriarty and ensure it doesn't happen again."

"You'd better! I want a report as soon as I get home. Now apologize to my Johnny Boy for your lapse." Jim demanded.

"Apologies Mr Watson."

"Quite alright." John replied, amused with the byplay. He was just happy to be standing at Jim's side.

Before Jim could begin ranting again, a thin man in a chefs uniform hurried up to them.

"Monsieur Moriarty, I apologize profusely for the trouble. I assure you, this was very much a surprise." The man hurriedly explained in a heavy French accent.

"I should hope so Louis. If I find out you played any part in this, I will burn your business to the ground and feed you to the alley rats!" Jim promised.

The man visibly gulped and paled. "Yes sir. May I bring your meal? Complimentary, of course."

Jim turned to John, question clear in his eyes.

"Yes, let's eat." John answered for them before leaning closer to Jim and murmuring, "You'll need your strength later."

Jim valiantly attempted to prevent his blush but only partially succeeded as they returned to their seats. Seb and his men took more visible posts while wait staff scurried about calming their patrons and offering free desserts.

"I'm so sorry, Johnny Boy. I was hoping we could have a nice uninterrupted date." Jim apologized morosely.

John smiled and took his hand. "This date has been perfect. I'm with an exceedingly attractive and funny man and we have amazing conversations. The excitement with the waiter was just icing on the cake."

Reassured, Jim grinned. "So you're saying the way to your heart is to put you in danger?"

"Mm, I would say that's the way to my libido. Yesterday I would have said there is no way to my heart, but now I see it was just waiting for you."

"Now you're just being silly." Jim blushed.

"Well, I suppose that's a side effect of love at first sight." John responded seriously. "We'll have to wait to see if it's permanent."

Jim laughed, "I'm not sure which result to hope for."

"Well, anything that keeps that adorable blush on your face is good in my book. Tell me, how far down does it go darling?" John asked, gaze darkening as he gazed at the place where Jim's neck met suit.

Blush deepening, Jim forced himself to smoothly say, "You'll just have to find out."

"Can't wait." John rasped.

Seb approached then with their dinner, eyes rolling as he overheard the banter.

"Since your waiter is currently undergoing…questioning, I'll be serving you. Here are your meals, guaranteed poison free. Can I get you anything else?" He asked.

"Thank you Seb. That will be all." Jim confirmed.

The rest of their date was less eventful but still more enjoyable than any they'd had before. Conversation flowed and the meal was fantastic. They playfully ate each others food and naturally acted as though they'd been dating for years.

As they finished dessert both men slowed, neither wanting the evening to end. Finally, they couldn't delay any longer.

"Would you like to go anywhere else or shall I take you home?" Jim inquired.

"I think I'd like to have you all to myself for a while. Take me home and stay a while?" John suggested, eyes smoldering.

Jim had a fairly good idea of what John was really asking and was completely on board with the idea. He quickly signaled to Seb that they were leaving and stood with John. The mood took on a sense of urgency and the men quickly made their way out. Jim could only hope that he wouldn't make a fool of himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part one of the date complete! On to the smut! Hopefully this next chapter won't take months to write! Suggestions and volunteers to beta are very VERY welcome!


	8. John Gets What He Wants

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Smut is only the beginning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. This chapter just flowed out of me. Not sure what it says about me that I can easily write smut but take months to write plot. Is it a sign? *shrugs*
> 
> I hope you like! Its quick and dirt, all mistakes are my own!

One day, they would look back at this moment and laugh. Now, however, there was nothing funny about the way they were frantically making out against the door of 221B. John had dropped the keys twice now and was well on his way to dropping them for a third time when the door opened and they toppled inside, narrowly missing Mrs. Hudson who giggled at the sight of them. Both were pink and flustered, their suits mussed and hair disheveled.

"Sorry boys." Mrs. Hudson laughed. "It sounded like you were having some trouble. Not to worry, I'll just lock up here and be on my way to bed… with the television on… and loud."

Later, Jim would remark that it was one of the rare times he hadn't wanted to hurt someone for laughing at him. He was far too grateful as John helpfully hauled him to his feet and pushed him up the stairs, mumbling a quick but embarrassed thank you for both of them.

Upon entering the flat John immediately pushed Jim up against the door and resumed the fiery kiss. Jim scrambled to hold on as he was lifted, legs wrapping snugly around Johns hips and slotting them together oh so perfectly.

"I want to make you feel good." John breathed. "Tell me what you like, what you want."

"I -- I don't know. Something. Anything." Jim moaned, trying to catch his breath and failing as John continued to place hot open mouth kisses along his jaw line. He could feel his head spinning but couldn't find it in him to care.

This made John pause and lift his head. Jim wanted to scream.

"You've done this before, haven't you?" John asked. No judgement or inflection in his tone.

"Never like this." Jim responded immediately, straining to urge John to continue.

"What do you mean, sweetheart?" John asked, lightly running his lips under Jim's ear and breathing him in. It was a heady feeling. "Never with another man?"

"Never when it meant something." Jim admitted.

John's face softened and his hands gentled as he cradled Jim's head and brought him in for another kiss. This one was less frantic and more filled with emotion, deep and slow and beautiful. Jim followed his lead, submitting in a way he had never allowed himself before.

A few dizzying moments later, John slowly pulled away, smiling as a dazed Jim tried to follow.

"I'll take care of you, sweetheart. You just tell me if you want me to stop, or do something else, anything you want." John urged.

Jim nodded. "I think I'd like more kissing."

"As you wish." John chuckled lowly resuming the same slow drug like kiss.

Jim felt consumed, and happily so. He adored the feeling of being pinned against the door, wrapped around and held up by John's warm sturdy presence. Like nothing could get to him, like he didn't need to think or worry, just feel. And what a feeling it was.

Lost in a sea of sensation, it took Jim a moment or an eternity to feel John's hot length pushing against his own. Once he did, however, it was all he could think of. That he had caused this reaction in John was a staggering and it made his arousal all the more urgent, so he couldn't help but shift and rock his hips into the feeling.

"Shh. It's alright darling." John breathed against Jim's lips.

This confused Jim for a moment until he registered that he was steadily whimpering. He felt his face heating and so quickly bowed his head to hide in John's neck.

"Don't be embarrassed." John urged, kissing anywhere he could reach. "I've never been so turned on in my life. Everything you do is amazing. I love seeing you let go, so please don't start holding back now."

Jim didn't know how to respond, so simply asked, "Bed?"

John let out a quick breath, like he'd been punched in the stomach, and hurried to comply.

"Fuck, yeah. Yes. Bed. That's good." He choked out, lifting Jim further and spinning to carry Jim up the stairs quickly and into his bedroom. It wasn't graceful, Jim was a full grown man after all, but it was pleasing nonetheless.

Jim was slightly intimidated by the sight of John's bed, but didn't have time to worry as he was gently lowered onto it and pulled into an urgent kiss.

Both men were beginning to pant but never let their lips part. Kissing and breathing in the other as hands began to tentatively map out unfamiliar places.

Slowly, Jim realized his tight clothing was loosening bit by bit as dexterous surgeons' hands undid buttons and removed his tie. He attempted to do the same for John but knew his movements were more forceful and heavy handed. 

Shirts quickly followed ties and jackets on the floor. They took their time feeling the new expanses of skin available to them, ignoring the painfully tight trousers for the moment.

Jim was fascinated by the starburst on John's shoulder and delicately traced the web of scars with his fingertips. When he leaned forward to follow the same path with his tongue, he felt John shudder as a guttural moan rocked his body. Pleased by the response and excited to momentarily take the lead, Jim continued his tongues journey down further, lavishing kitten like licks on John's nipple and enjoying the feel of it coming alive at the ministrations.

John let out a pleased hum and Jim lifted his eyes while moving to the next one, telling himself firmly that he wasn't seeking approval, just checking that John was truly enjoying his attempts.

"Good boy." John cooed, stroking the back of Jims head. "Look at you, so gorgeous. That's it darling, get it nice and wet. So brilliant, learning how to please me so naturally."

The praise went straight to Jim cock like a physical bolt, causing him to moan and buck. He let out a whine when he met nothing but air and the cruel tightness of his own trousers.

"Oh." John breathed out, eyes going darker, "My good boy likes that, doesn't he? You want me to tell you how beautiful you look, how good you are?"

Jim refused to answer but John could see the answer in his eyes.

"That's alright, my love, you don't have to say anything if you don't want to. Your body answers beautifully." John said as he pulled Jim away from his now uncomfortably tight nipples.

Before Jim could complain, his mouth was being ravished once more. It amazes him that kissing had gone from being his least favorite to his most favorite intimacy. To be fair, everything with John was far and away better than anything he had ever experienced.

Jim was slowly pushed back so that he was laying on the bed with his legs hanging off and John standing between them, hunched over to kiss him passionately. John's hands rested on Jim's thighs and slowly started kneading them, making Jim writhe.

When gentle hands slid higher Jim couldn’t help but begin to pant, mouth going lax as his focus zeroed in on how close John was to touching his cock. John continued to lick into his mouth, not letting his partners lapse end the kiss.

Finally, John's hand firmly cupped the impressive bulge, causing Jim to let out a shrill cry and buck into. He sobbed as he continued to rut into the hand, unable to stop himself.

"Good boy, that's it, take what you need. I want you to get yourself off in you silky pants. I've been imagining you dirtying yourself all night, give it to me darling." John urged gruffly.

"John!" Jim whined as hips continued thrusting up. "I need -- p-please. I need!"

"Come for me beautiful." John ordered.

And Jim did. John watched in awe as the lithe man beneath him let out a single strangled sound before he locked up and arched. His eyes were wide and unfocused and his delicious lips were opened wide in a silent scream. He jerked with the last few spurts as sticky semen flooded his silk pants.

"So good for me." John murmured as Jim calmed.

Jim smiled dopily at the praise and John didn't resist the urge to kiss his spit slicked lips once again. Sighing happily into the kiss, Jim wiggled and stretched.

"Can I take off your trousers and pants, love?" John asked.

Jim nodded, not yet ready to speak as he basked in the afterglow of the best god damned orgasm of his life.

John was gentle as he finished undressing Jim, taking the time to kiss each new patch of skin he revealed and even sucking in a few marks here and there. Jim nearly purred in pleasure, adoring the attention.

When he was finally naked, Jim shivered a bit as the air met the mess in his lap. Before he could complain, or even open his eyes, a hot wet tongue began to lave at his lax balls.

"Oh my god." Jim gasped, jerking and finally looking down. The sight of John between his legs, diligently and lovingly licking up his spent come, made Jim moan and shiver. He felt light headed as blood rushed back into his cock, slowly plumping it.

He let out a whimper as John began to lavish the same velvet attention to the head of his cock. Warm lips wrapped around it and a strong tongue began flicking his frenum until he was fully painfully hard again.

Jim knew he was whining pitifully, but he couldn't help it. The pleasure was so intense, on the edge of too good and not enough. He tried rocking his hips but John had thought ahead and held him down firmly. The feeling of being out of control drove Jim even wilder and his desperation ratcheted higher. He tightened his hands in the comforter of John's bed, trying to ground himself.

When John released his cock with a pop, Jim sobbed. He wasn't sure if it was in relief or desperation. John simply made a soothing noise and his strong hands gently rolled Jim over onto his stomach with ease and then lifted his hips until he resettled on his knees.

He felt exposed this way, head and shoulders resting on the bed as his ass remains high in the air. He shivered as John settled behind him and began to knead his ass. Loving the feel and the heat of John's eyes on him.

"Your pink little hole is perfect. I can't wait to feel it wrapped all snug around me. Would you like that, darling?" John asked hotly.

"Yes, please yes." Jim begged faintly.

"So polite." John grinned, bestowing a kiss at the small of Jims back in reward.

Then he dropped a kiss lower…

And lower again…

Recalling John's word from before their date, Jim tensed and held his breath. Did John intend to 'lick him open'? Could that really be happening? Anticipation made him tremble and John have a dark laugh.

"That's right darling. I can't wait to get my tongue in you. You look so beautiful, all laid out for me. I'm going to make you come again just like this." He promised.

With that, John rained down hot open mouth kisses on Jim's ass. Sucking brushing marks into the delicate skin and brushing sweet soothing kissed after them. His hands continued to massage and his thumbs ran up and down Jim's crease, teasing the poor man and making him wriggle for relief.

John spread Jim's cheeks and nuzzled deeply. Jim felt off kilter and embarrassed in the best way, making urgent anticipatory noises which only fueled both men's lust.

A wet kiss pressed against Jim's fluttering hole, making him still once more. A slithering tongue quickly followed, circling around the rim but not dipping inside. It was maddening and wonderful and the whole street was sure to know that as Jim let out wailing keens.

The next few moments (or hours?) was a blur of feeling as both men became lost in the sensations. John's tongue was greedy and quickly made Jim's hole and cheeks wet and messy. His lips suckled sporadically causing Jim's hips to jerk and his breath to catch each time.

When John finally -FINALLY - slipped his tongue inside, it was easy as the muscle had long since relaxed to welcome it. He went as deep as he could, sometimes spearing Jim's hole and other times wriggling and massaging him from the inside. Then he began to work in a finger, then another, until he was alternating between fingers and tongue and tongue alone.

Jim wasn't sure which he liked best, but he knew that if John would just FUCKING PICK ONE and stop changing the FUCKING tempo that Jim would come again. And he needed that. Needed to come like he needed air. No, more than air, he would happily die if he could just wrangle one orgasm out of the deal.

John's fingers would graze his prostate, setting off explosions behind Jim's eyes, before quickly being removed and replaced with his wet tongue.

Jim was sobbing and pleading shamelessly but John didn't let up. If anything, it only made him work Jim more frantically. He was growling and moaning into his lovers ass and couldn't be bothered with petty things, like breathing.

"Please, please, puh-please! John! Oh. I -- please John. JOHN. John." Jim babbled, tears forming as his cock hung heavy and angry red between his thighs. Pre-cum oozing and sliding deliciously down to pool beneath him. He desperately wanted to reach down and stroke it, but resisted. John wanted him to come on his tongue and he would, even if he died trying.

John let one hand relax its hold on Jim's plump cheek and gave it a hard slap.

That was it, Jim nearly wailed as his cock gave a ferocious pulse and began shooting. He felt it from his toes to his head and everywhere between as his entire body rocked with the orgasm. John pushed his tongue in as far as it could go, easing Jim through it.

Before the last wave eased, Jim gasped as his world turned upside down. John had rolled him onto his back and was quickly rolling on a condom.

"Need to be inside you. God you're so gorgeous. Fucking delicious." John rasped.

Jim was still pliant and dizzy from coming so hard, so John was able to easily raise his hips and legs, propping him up against his own thighs.

A cap snapped and Jim saw John drizzle a heaping amount of slick into his palm before stoking his own length. The sight of it mad Jim's limp cock perk weakly.

After John slicked his own cock, he moved his hand to Jims puckered entrance, easily inserting a finger in the lessened holes before adding a second then a third.

As he rubbed the slick deep into Jim, a finger brushed against his prostate, making Jim moan. Amazingly, he could feel his prick begin to swell slightly, but he wasn't a young man anymore and wasn't sure if he would be able to come again that night.

Seconds later, John eased his fingers out and took hold of himself, aligning the head of his cock to Jim's now twitching hole.

"Are you ready, darling?" He asked, voice stationed in the effort it took to ask and not simply take.

"Yes, please John. Make me yours." Jim asked.

"Oh, sweetheart." John sighed as he bent down to capture Jim's lips in a brief but meaningful kiss. "You're already mine."

With that, he eased in. Slowly but steadily without stopping. Jim writhed and gaped, feeling no pain but just an intense steady pressure. Soon enough, John was balls deep and pressing tightly into Jim.

"Oh my god, John." Jim whispered, awed at the feeling of John inside him.

John could only groan in reply before he slowly pulled back out until just the tip of his prick was still inside. Jim hurriedly wrapped his arms and legs around him, not knowing that John had no intention of leaving Jim's body anytime soon.

The next thrust was faster and John began to steadily fuck into Jim, rolling his hips and angling for Jim's prostate with the accuracy of an expert Doctor.

Jim was fully hard now and letting out a deep sharp noise each time John pounded into him. John began to mutter filthy praise in his ear, driving John wild and making them both move faster.

"You're so tight, sweetheart. Fit me like you were made for me." John gritted out. "So fucking perfect. You belong right here, hanging off my cock, don't you darling?"

"Yes, yes. Yours John. I'm yours. Please."

"Please what darling? I'll give you anything you want. Just ask."

Jim whimpered. Unable to put what he wanted into words. 

"We're getting tested Jim, and next time I fuck you I'm going to go bare. Going to pump you full darling, until I'm empty. Make your belly bulge with my cum, and then I'm going to suck it out of you." John promised. "Would you like that sweetheart?"

Jim nodded frantically, already imagining the feel of it and growing harder at the thought. 

"God, Jim." John moaned, thrusting roughly. "I'm never going to get enough of you."

Jim felt John's cock brush against his prostate again and lost it, shuddering and moaning as his cock throbbed and let out the barest dibble of come, completely spent.

"Oh, yes sweetheart, that's it's. You come so beautifully for me." John praised, movements becoming jerky as he neared his own completion.

Jim, lost in a haze, blurted out, "I love you!"

John gave a punched out sound and then rammed deeper, coming hard at Jim's declaration of love.

They held on tightly to each other as they came down, basking.

Jim was slightly nervous. He hadn't planned on telling John that he was in love with him. Hadn't really processed the fact that it was true. But it was, and he had felt it and said it before his mind could catch up. It was so unlike him. He didn't have to worry long.

"I love you too, you perfect, mad, gorgeous, creature." John said, inter-spacing his words with gentle kisses.

Jim grinned. "You do?"

"Oh yes, I couldn't help it really." John admitted.

"Good." Jim sighed, nuzzling deeper in Johns embrace. "I couldn't either."

They spent a few more moments wrapped in each other, silently trading kissed and luxuriating in the feeling of their love.

"Do you think this is going to work?" Jim asked worriedly.

"Oh yes." John answered immediately, fully confident.

"How?"

"That’s easy darling. We're going to love each other and be together. I'll help Sherlock with his cases and we'll plan a few crimes together to keep him happily busy. We'll talk when we get upset and make love every night. Maybe we'll even adopt, a child or an animal. Who knows? We're geniuses, we'll figure it out. All I know right now is that you make me happy, and I am never letting go."

And he never did.

THE END

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's that! The One shot that turned into so much more is now officially over. I have other fics in progress so hopefully this will not be the last you hear of me!


End file.
